


made from something cosmic

by oceandawn



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Falling In Love, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26421517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceandawn/pseuds/oceandawn
Summary: ben's always been cold. callum is warm. together, they're a lot more than just individuals that fit somehow.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50
Collections: ballum lockdown





	made from something cosmic

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr ballumlockdown gift exchange for siennablake!
> 
> hey hey! you mentioned the sun/moon dynamic when you answered my ask so I — well, i didn't really know what to write so I kinda went a bit more experimental with it and tried not to do too much dialogue but then it got out of hand.
> 
> hope you like it! enjoy your gift

It's almost fate how much art depicts the sun and moon fitting together. They're drawn interlocking, perfectly entwined and outlined in an equal glow that two orbital bodies share. 

It's almost fate how that reflects Ben and Callum, too.

Ben falls into Callum so easily, eyes closed, Callum with his hand resting on Ben's jaw with the slightest hint of pressure. He kisses him so warm, his touch so  _ warm,  _ his love so  _ warm. _

The sharp exhale that rolls off Ben's tongue is the single echo of that power, the string tied to their hearts and  _ pulled, tugged  _ when that gravity is ever present.

Callum would burn if not for him, the cold, rocky surface that cools the starved fire inside his chest, pushed from all sides into a sphere.

Even so, it's this equal shift, like day and night, how that cycle alternates between them, hot and cold.

Callum always burns like the sun, but Ben can, too. He's fire untouched, the spark that brought Callum from the cold, the same spark that burns and breaks Callum's lungs into song when they're alone and love is the main catalyst.

They're equal, one and the same, shifting the balance depending on how the day eclipses them.

Sometimes, Ben will distance himself, push himself away from warm arms, simply existing to eclipse him because he's selfish and hungry for that sickly ego that's protected him for so long.

Other times, Ben is merely a moth to a flame, tired of the cold, tired of admiring from afar, afraid of the burn. But he'll step closer, lock eyes with Callum and swirl his tongue across his lip, and Callum will reach for him, fingers in his hair like a man desperate for that breeze in the summer months.

They're each other's own enemy, weakness, salvation. They shouldn't work, but they do. And it's that defiance, bending the rules of words written in passages of time that makes them so cosmic, so brilliant.

Ben and Callum make their own dynasty, their own orbit, their own eclipse like no one else will. It's uniquely theirs, that love, that want to reach out and touch and  _ hold _ . Ben's never been the guy to reach, only to pull and take.

With Callum, it's different, almost comically impossible how much the  _ rough and tough thicker than blood  _ motto Ben carries on his sleeve from his family name vanishes to nothing but a myth, becoming something true in the process.

Callum makes him real, makes Ben want to turn that page, to feel what it's like to  _ be  _ someone. 

It's the way Callum will reach his hands up, hold him like he's the most precious thing, and Ben will snarl through shattered glass and say he isn't fragile — but he is. He's tragically human, and Callum's fingers unweave the threads holding that false armour over his skin.

It's the  _ one two three  _ taps on his shoulder in the morning, the sun on their backs, an even brighter one in contact with Ben as he whispers  _ good morning.  _ Something about that, the safety of waking up in arms so heavy, a promise of never leaving that makes Ben forget there's a world outside his door.

Why vision what's out there when  _ his _ world is already there, arms around him, lips gentle at his shoulder?

It's the  _ see you later  _ kiss on his lips that lingers because their farewells are always bound to end up extended. It takes the promise of  _ just one more  _ that turns into  _ five minutes is all I need  _ and then  _ I'll call in sick  _ to completely null the first goodbye. Their orbit is strong, unbreakable, they always come back, or never leave.

But it's not always a contrast. Sometimes it's the small things, the natural order, the result of being total opposites.

It's the wild, harsh, burning nature of Ben's personality tamed by fingers intertwining with his, the simple art of touch leaving nothing but smoke to twirl and vanish. The warmth lingers, always, but the surface of their fingertips share an equal roughness from harsh years, something that feels real and grounding against skin in any way that may be.

Callum touches his face a lot, fingers gentle along the curve of Ben's features, the bow of his lip, the angle of his jaw, the soft but scratching hair at the side of his head, stubble giving his face the hint of a shadow.

He'll always,  _ always,  _ brushes his thumb under Ben's eyes, prompting him to look back at Callum no matter the circumstance.

It shifts, always, if Callum's the sun and Ben's the moon. But one thing is always certain, and it's that both of their eyes are blue.

The tide is blue. The moon pulls the tide. They have a place in the natural order, fate, as if it was meant to be by design.

Ben will whisper that he loves Callum so rarely it's like Callum is there in that tide, cold and somewhat alone. Even though there's acres to explore, he's too cold and hopeless to swim out any further.

That first kiss, that first eclipse was Ben taking the ropes as the moon connected to the tide,  _ pulling  _ until a clear pathway opened up. It was the first step, the first breath Callum ever had, staring out to look at himself in Ben.

A star barely burning, flickering.

The second kiss only made them flicker more, a lightbulb grasping to whatever current it can find. But they remained dim, partly in denial, in orbit but distant, cold from it.

It's been momentary victories ever since then, hot and cold, switching between night and day because they're two big stars with so much love in their hearts it's so easy to burn and then burn out.

But that one night, the night Callum stumbled out of his room to see Ben wrapping gifts, that smile on his face that defies any ill people have pinned towards him — that was the night things changed.

Ben said those words, words so stupidly simple but so heavy, so universally seen as something impactful and Callum had to hold his breath.

The burn in his lungs was too much, causing him to reach out, to sign the same back, to watch as Ben's eyes admired back in the very few times Callum has seen.

Ben's never seen himself as the same since he lost his hearing, so unbelievably broken that it was almost as if Ben envisioned himself without life. No fuel. No light. An empty rock in space.

But Callum learned how to love him in an entirely different way, a way he always has.

Acceptance. Callum loves him, and Ben loves Callum. Callum has never felt so right, so alive, so  _ warm  _ ever since Ben's been in his life the way he has. Ben didn't think he'd ever find this again, to have this again, a love so whole instead of broken patchwork because he's too afraid to have it.

Callum's seen how bright Ben can shine, how warm he can be, how much love he can give to those who he chooses. Ben may not shine as bright as Callum, but they never outshine each other, always eclipsed, always together.

It was that kiss during that night, Ben reaching for him, taking hold of the arm of the chair because his legs almost gave out underneath him — that was the moment Ben felt it, acceptance in himself and the warm hands holding him.

He would've been there all night if he could, moving to sit on his lap, arms around Callum's neck and just —  _ holding.  _ Being there in the moment has become so important to Ben because he's spent so much time trying to find the next. His life is a loop of constant anxiety, the past pinned to his chest like a warning sign to future lovers weighing him down.

And why would it be on his chest? Because Ben always turns away, doesn't let people see his emotions, doesn't let anyone in to grab and take hold of his heart because it hurts too much. They won't be able to see the rapid rise and fall of his chest out of fear of the future if he stands with his back to them.

It's false armour to make him seem like he's moving forward, strong and noble. In reality, he feels cold to the touch, crumbling, wanting to do nothing more than sink against a wall, pull his knees against his chest and try to breathe.

With Callum, he's found himself unable to do that. He can't hide, can't turn away even though the coding in his system tells him this is all just a dream — but it feels  _ so _ real. The hand on his chest, Callum's hand, soothing and warm, is real. Callum rips away that pin, kisses where it once was and locks his arms around him as a warm exhale rushes from his lips over Ben's skin.

The moon only shines because of the sun's light reflecting off the surface, and it's felt like that for a long time. Ben still feels like that, that the only reason he feels a shred of happiness is because of Callum.

"You said it," says Callum, eyes unable to witness what Ben might be thinking as Callum pushes his forehead against the skin of his chest, the sheets warm around them.

"I did," and Ben sounds surprised himself, a hint of a smile in his voice that Callum manages to capture when he finally looks up.

Callum parts his lips to say something, but he decides against it, deciding to just smile and admire the silence in their own cosmic space, hearts burning gently.

"What?" Ben asks, wanting to hear what Callum was going to say. 

"Nothing," Callum adjusts himself on his elbows, resting his cheek against Ben as he stays there. Ben said he likes the subtle weight, how safe it makes him feel in his arms.

"Say it."

"You'll laugh at me," groans Callum, moving again, lips brushing over the skin of his chest before kissing at his collar-bone. He hopes that in some way speaks for him.

"I won't," Ben promises, thumb moving to scratch behind Callum's ear, moving his hand up towards his messy fringe and massaging. The hum that vibrates from Callum's chest is the truth of his contentment.

"You will."

"I won't," Ben pinches his shoulder, causing Callum to flinch.

"Hey," he grumbles, the small peace gone. 

"Please?"

Callum's eyes lock with his, and Ben shrugs as if to say  _ I always come out with the worst, so what could you possibly say that's worse? _

He smiles, looking away again for a time that drags on, and Ben sighs, about to ask again, but Callum comes out with it.

"You look so happy when you smile," Callum says, quiet, almost inaudible. 

Ben presses his lips together.  _ Don't laugh. _

But he can't help it.

"I think that's the whole idea of smiling, Cal," he giggles, and Callum swats his chest, pressing his face into his chest again to hide the embarrassment no doubt burning his ears.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Mumbles Callum, barely audible, and Ben reaches both hands to hold either side of his head, trying to get those blue eyes to focus on him again.

"Then what way?" Ben hopes his face isn't showing how much that statement starts to move the choir in his chest. God, he just wants to constantly have this, always.

"Smiling like you mean it," replies Callum.

"That's a song, ain't it?"

_ "Ben—" _

_ "Alright,"  _ Ben takes a breath, hoping he would have avoided the speech, but his heart willingly opens for it, knowing and trusting that Callum would never speak words similar to those who have before, those who have  _ wanted  _ to hurt him. Control him.

Callum frees him, allows him to feel otherwise rather than bracing for whatever's coming. He knows he can  _ breathe. _

"Sometimes, when you smile, it doesn't last — and even when it does there's so much pain in your eyes. It's like you don't feel as if you should, that you're not allowed to," Callum leans his weight on one arm beside Ben, moving his free hand over the surface of his heart, feeling the small intake Ben does when Callum stares back at him, remaining. Real. "You're smiling right now, and I — I don't see any of that. You seem—"

"Happy," Ben finishes the sentence for him, and Callum's hand stops moving, pressing, fingers curling slightly because his next words are as natural as breathing. "I'm happy. I really am."

"Yeah?" There's a shine in Callum's eyes, bright with so much joy like the first time Ben told him he loves him. His chest flutters, his heart expands, feeling as if he can't hold everything he's feeling.

Ben's smile curves to one side, unable to express it through words. He could just say yes, or nod, but it doesn't feel enough. There will never  _ be  _ enough words to say to him.

So he takes Callum's head between his hands, pulls a little, gently, and Callum understands, wired through touch alone as their language talks for them.  _ Touch. _

"Are you staying the night?" Callum asks between kisses, nose brushing against his with the softest hint of affection, Ben still having his eyes closed. A small smile blesses his lips.

"Thought that was obvious?" says Ben, tugging a little on Callum's hair, moving his other hand to grip one of Callum's. His hands are so warm.

Callum doesn't really know what to say, lost between saying nothing at all or explaining how much anxiety he still has because this is his first, proper relationship and somehow is afraid of the fact he wants it to be his  _ last. _

He can't see anyone else. Can't be with anyone else.

Callum's heart won't sing and burn like it is when he's with Ben. Another man's hand might not fit right between his own like the way Ben's hands do, perfectly entwined. They might not tease and laugh the way Ben does, and they will never make Callum feel the way he does when Ben looks over at Callum from the other end of the bar. How Ben looks at him from across the street, longing, always.

They're like magnets, coming back to each other, and even if they do break up from a future fight, Callum hopes and feels it in the very core of his soul that he'll go back to Ben. They both will.

They may not be in a perfect orbit, but it's one that stays strong, always cosmic.

"Callum?" The silence draws on, and Ben brushes his thumb across Callum's temple when he doesn't say anything else.

"Sorry," he mumbles, kissing Ben again, but only a few times until Ben pulls back on his own accord. "I just— do you feel like you don't wanna' let go of this?"

Ben blinks, taking a moment before squeezing Callum's hand.

"No, I don't," Ben replies, and Callum has a momentary second of looking hurt. He's interpreted that as Ben not feeling the same.

Ben sits up, causing Callum to rise to his knees, eyes a little glossy, breath rushing from his lips that was almost a sob as Ben takes hold of his neck.

"I don't want to lose you," repeats Ben, and he watches Callum's eyes grow even more vivid with colour. "I love you, I'm just bad with words— I'm bad at a lot of things, alright?"

Callum huffs, hands coming to rest on Ben's waist, warm and grounding. Ben follows suit, moving to sit on his lap.

"I tried, you know. I tried to not fall in love with you, to keep it as some sort of  _ thing  _ because god, I was so scared how you made me feel. I haven't felt this in years, I didn't think I ever would," Ben looks down to his chest. "And I know I don't make it easy to believe that, but I do. I don't regret any second with you. I may regret the things I've said and done, but I can't change them, and I can only decide what to do next."

Callum usually only gets a few choice words from a longing Ben, but he must have struck some sort of chord, or the night of peace and serenity is helping Ben open up a little more. 

"So, Callum Highway," he adjusts himself a little, taking a deep breath before coming out with it. "May I stay the night?"

Callum smiles, the gloss in his eyes falling down as a small tear on his left cheek. Ben wipes it away with his thumb.

"Yeah," replies Callum, having to swallow. Ben follows with his thumb again, almost a feather light touch on his skin. It's as if he's saying sorry for how he's crying, how his body is reacting to Ben's words.

"And maybe tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Callum says again.

"Friday?"

Callum nods, laughing, smiling wide when Ben leans to kiss him, arms loose around his neck.

Ben names all the days of the week as they kiss, and Callum just hums to agree to each one, the pair of them knowing the message is agreed to, but it feels too good to stop.

Callum moves his hands up Ben's back, fingers a little arched so the pressure sinks in. Ben has to inhale, lifting himself up a little.

_ "God,  _ you're so warm," Ben notes, breaking from Callum's lips, smirking because Callum follows after him for a moment. "It's like you're the sun, or something."

"You're a little cold," Callum rubs his hands over his shoulders to prove his point. 

"That make me the moon?"

Callum scrunches his nose, "Since when were you a man of metaphors?"

"Dunno," Ben sits back, and Callum follows, their orbit strong, always making sure they follow. "Maybe it's your fault. All of your poetic vows and shit to love me, gotta' keep up, ain't I?"

Callum brushes his nose against his, smiling as he looks down at him, "Mm. I'm a bad influence, then?"

"The best kind," Ben pulls him in, kisses him soft and slow, kisses him like it's the time where the horizon allows the sun and moon to meet.

It's that blessed time where fire mixes with ice, making the sky dance red and purple, symbols of warmth and cold.

_ "Love you,"  _ Callum whispers against his lips, delicate, infinite.

Ben smiles, feeling his heart tug and push through his ribs from how close they are, how in love he is.

"I think I'll always love you," replies Ben.

But he misses the rest. He's never  _ that  _ poetic, but he feels it, warm and blooming like the petals of a rose for the first time in summer.

_ I'll always love you. _

_ I'll always love you like the moon loves the sun — because I wouldn't be who I am without you, Callum. _

Callum leans up to kiss him, softly, like he heard him somehow, then more until Ben has to stop himself from laughing because the feeling in his chest is overwhelming. It's comedic how much he didn't believe in this ever happening when loving Callum is so easy.

Only Callum's ever made sense of the void inside, the cold and dark temperatures.

He's turned it from nothing but fear into something cosmic, a galaxy, spots of light like butterflies flapping their wings for the first time — and then his heart, burning bright like a star, the center of Ben's universe.

That star has gravity, but it's only ever had the will to pull, to take. Now, it shares an entire orbit, Ben soothing his hand over Callum's back to feel the rhythm of his own star.

We're all made from stars, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at @karasunofIy or oceandawning on tumblr


End file.
